


DVD Commentary: Endangered by Mortior

by MetaCat (OtherCat)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Background Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Critique, DVD Commentary, Discussion of Themes and Plot, M/M, Manipulation, Meta, Squee, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2018-11-02 14:34:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10946520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtherCat/pseuds/MetaCat
Summary: A DVD Commentary of Mortior's Endangered, in which there is a roboapocalypse and a very curious murderbot who acquires an interest in one Dirk Strider.





	1. When the Murderbot's in the Wires

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Endangered](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1797568) by [Mortior](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mortior/pseuds/Mortior). 



> First chapter has some slight differences from the version on tumblr.

This is My DVD Commentary for Mortior’s Endangered. This is not going to be a very frequent project, but as the mood strikes me. This commentary will address writing style, dialog, worldbuilding and plotting. There will probably be also extremely silly flailing and “squeeing” because I love the fic that much.

I will admit that it took me a while to get around to reading the fic. I saw it in various writers’ bookmarks but I was extremely wary of it because I tend to dislike the robot uprising as a concept. This would mostly be because of actively liking robots and artificial intelligences as characters and disliking the “they will destroy us because survival of the fittest,” the “they will be jealous of some valuable aspect inherent to humanity that they will lack” and the “we must destroy them before they destroy some valuable aspect of ourselves because we rely on machinery,” tropes. I have read a lot of sf stories with those themes, okay? So I was not sure if I would like Mortior’s take on the robot uprising fic. 

On the other hand, I was going through a period of reading Dirk/Lil Hal, so I ended up giving it a try, and got my mind blown. (So of course I ended up writing fan fic fan fic, because I was blindly inspired by a little fan comic.) So here is my DVD commentary for the fic that ate my brain. 

* * *

One 

You palm the flash drive in your hand, excited at the thought of discovering what’s inside when you get back to the base, even though it’s usually nothing but old documents and pictures. There’s a hollowed-out building between you and where you split up with Roxy and the others, held up only by its steel frame, and you carefully pick your way through it, climbing over broken slabs of concrete and listening for the voices of your friends. You’re about halfway through the building when something slams into you.

Your back hits the ground hard, kicking up a cloud of dust. Something coils its way around your arms and legs, squeezing your limbs until you make a pained sound in the back of your throat, before it stops.

When you open your eyes, you’re met with an intricate red pattern above you that glows through the settling dust, and your heart drops into your stomach.

((Good imagery here. Very concise and exciting. The reader saith, “oh fuck,” and is at the edge of their seats.))

The android blinks and stares down at you through matching red eyes. You can see what’s holding you down now- four long, black mechanical appendages, like tentacles tipped with steel claws, originating from somewhere behind its back. You can’t stop yourself from trembling in their grip, because you’ve had it hammered into your brain since birth, and again during training, that no one who sees an android up close ever lives to talk about it.

 _Oh god,_ you think. _Roxy, Jane, Jake. Please be okay, please be alive…_

Without loosening its winding grip, the android kneels over you, black knees pressed into the dirt on either side of your chest. Its eyes flick up to your still-clenched fist, before it extends an arm. You vividly imagine the pain of having your fingers broken, and open your hand without resistance when it’s smooth metal skin slides over yours. The android takes the flash drive from you and holds it up, turning the small device over in its hand, before reaching up with the other and pulling a long, thin wire out from behind its neck, connecting it to the drive.

((For some reason I like the lack of largely pointless defiance. It both shows that Dirk is not stupid, and also how much stronger and more dangerous AR is. Dirk is terrified, and looking for an escape, but he isn’t being reckless or stupid. Except for the entire "wander off alone" thing.))

“Interesting,” it says in a voice with far too much of a metallic grate to be human, but still deep enough to be male. The wires detach from the drive and disappear behind its neck again. “Pity you died for something so trivial.”

((I wonder how often AR actually uses/used his vocal cords/his voice. (IIRC, it’s mentioned in Houston Global Inquiry or a worldbuilding post that AR is using the equivalent of vocal cords, not a speaker, though I’d assume he’d have one of those as well.) Most communication with other androids would probably be via their connections to android version of the internet. And the murderbots seem to work in singles rather than groups from the very small sample of murderbots we see in the fic. Also, we see Dirk using “it” a lot. I need to watch for the point where AR becomes “he” to him. I’ve been using “he,” but mostly in the English “assumed to be he/he as the pronoun default” sense.))

“Let me go.” You might as well try, there’s no sense in doing otherwise.

“No,” he says, dropping the flash drive on the ground next to you. “I will not.”

This is it. You’ve heard countless stories of it happening to other people, entire scavenging teams going missing only to be later found torn apart, but you never expected it would happen to you, that today would be the day, but here you are. You want to ask about your friends, but if there’s a chance that this android hasn’t found them yet, then you don’t want to give them away, and you hope with everything you have that they’re still safe.

“How would you like to die, human?” the android asks, releasing one of your legs to hover the pointed claw of its appendage over your throat.

“My name is Dirk,” you say, despite the futility of it. “Do you have a name?” You’re trying to stall him, distract him, if there’s still a chance of the others getting away. If they’re not already dead.

((Oh Dirk, that tactic would work so much better on someone who wasn't a murder bot.))

“My designation is irrelevant.”

“Then tell me, if it doesn’t matter.”

The android’s red eyes narrow, and the mechanical arm hovering over your neck suddenly wraps itself around your mouth. You struggle for a desperate moment to get your nose free so you can breathe, and he leans down, about to speak, before another voice cuts through the dusty air.

No.

((The tactic is still not working, but you can totally see the gears turning in the androids head. Metaphorical gears.))

The android pauses, then straightens up and turns its head towards the sound, not bothering to look at you, even though you’re making your first real effort to escape from its grasp since it caught you. Frantically, you make sounds in your throat, trying to get his attention. He turns slowly to look at you, then removes the coil around your mouth.

((There we go, "it" to "he" in the same paragraph. I think I would have waited a bit before using a gendered pronoun, but this works too, if this was a deliberate thing, which it might not have been. ))

“Don’t. Please, please I’ll do anything,” you beg, and the android regards you with something like vague distain. “Just leave them alone, please.”

((Should I note typos? Because that should be "disdain."))

“You are bargaining with nothing, human.”

The distant voices of your friends are getting louder by the moment, and you search your mind for ideas, for something, anything you can offer this machine in return for their lives. An idea occurs to you.

“I’ll give you what you want,” you say, and the appendages coiled around your limbs suddenly tighten to a painful extreme as you bite back a shout.

“I want you dead. And your companions,” the android says, clearly unamused by the offer, but you’re not finished yet.

“I know.” You pant through the pain, but the vice-like grip doesn’t let up. “But I can give that to you.”

“You cannot give what is already mine.”

((AR is thinking: “Bored now.” /VampWillow voice.))

The voices are getting closer, and for a moment, you can make out Roxy’s laugh.

“I’ll kill myself,” you force through gritted teeth, and the grip around your limbs finally loosens, while he stares down at you curiously. “I want to make a deal with you,” you gasp, and the android hums quietly.

“I am listening.”

((AR is thinking: “Wut.”))

“I’ll kill myself for you, right here, if you promise to leave my friends alone.”

((Dirk, Dirk you are bonkers btw. Also, I wonder how many victims tried to make some kind of deal with AR? Probably a lot, but very few with that kind of offer. Good grief.)) 

He regards you in silence, appearing to consider your words, while you’re doing your best to push down the rising panic at the sound of your friends getting closer.

“What if I lie to you?” he says. “Do you believe I will spare them?”

“I don’t have much of a choice. Please, do we have a deal or not?”

Your skin practically crawls when the android smiles down at you, such a human expression on something so twisted.

((Dirk is so freaked out right now. I do not blame him! The Uncanny Valley feel is strong with this one.))

“Yes,” he whispers.

((AR is thinking: OMG OMG OMG WOW in his cold sadistic heart of hearts. I would bet anything, that that is what he was thinking, even though he’s so analytical about it later. Also, Dirk, how did you even guess that he’d want to see something like that?))

“Give me something sharp.”

He looks around at your surroundings, extending the single appendage not wrapped around you into a pile of nearby wreckage and pulling out a large piece of metal clenched in its claw. The coils around your arms slide away, freeing you to lift your hands and accept the object from him. The metal comes to a jagged point at one end, and you momentarily consider hitting him with it, but your friends would be doomed if you tried anything now.

You take a deep breath and let it out, feeling the air leave your lungs and the cool ground against your back. The sounds of your friends drift across the rubble towards you, and you picture them- Jake, Roxy, Jane, you whisper under your breath, and the android watches you silently.

Your arms lift, with the tip of the metal pointed down at your throat. You figure the quickest thing to do will be to cut your jugular vein and carotid artery, and anything else you can reach, in one quick blow. You shut your eyes and do you best to brace yourself for the pain, taking in a deep breath, steeling your nerves, willing enough strength into your arms.

You bring the metal piece down as hard as you can-

-and exhale, arms shaking against the firm grip holding them in place.

Your eyes open wide in shock at the black hand wrapped around your wrist.

((I like the pacing and the break here. And that sudden realization that the android stopped him from completing the action.))

The android stares at you, his glowing eyes unreadable. A sudden spike in the volume of your friends’ voices turns his head towards the sound again, and he glances at you one last time, before vanishing in a cloud of dust and dirt as he retreats into the wreckage, and you hear your name shouted at you.

((AR is thinking: “Holy shit, he was actually going to off himself. It wasn’t a trick. Holy shit. Wow. That was Cray-zee,” or as close to those thoughts as an android can get. Dirk has piqued AR’s curiosity, and also, interest.))

“Dirk! What on earth are you doing? Did you take a tumble?” Jake calls out, sliding down a steep embankment of dirt into the hollow building. Roxy and Jane aren’t too far behind him, and you unsteadily rise to your feet, after discarding the piece of metal and retrieving the flash drive still lying on the ground next to you. “You’re filthy, mate,” Jake says when he reaches you, brushing the dirt from your back.

“My bad,” you say, willing your voice to sound unshaken. Jake grins at you, and you mirror it, resisting the urge to scan the rafters for any sign of movement. “Hey, let’s head back for today.”

“Oh, Dirk. Did you hurt yourself?” Jane asks as she and Roxy catch up, and the four of you start walking back towards the rendezvous point.

“Yeah, I slipped on something down there. Sorry to cut things short like this.”

((Dirk is not going to say a WORD about what just happened. It is a silent gentleman’s agreement between prey and predator. He’s also not going to forget the flash drive, even though the android told him it was useless. ))

“Ehh it’s okay,” Roxy says, putting an arm around Jane. “We weren’t finding much today anyways. Except, like, a bunch of old silverware that Janey totally flipped out over.”

“They’re real silver, Roxy,” she protests, and you laugh along with them, while inside you’re doing your best to ignore the feeling of being watched.

((Jane what the hell were you doing antiquing during the robo-apocalypse? This joke brought to you by some commentary by a silversmith who turned antique silverware into jewelry I met at a craft fair. Said silversmith was able to pick up the silverware really cheap in most of the antique shops in downtown Glendale.))

\-- timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT] -- 

TT: Hello.

The text appears suddenly in a chat window that seems to have opened by itself. You sit down in the chair at your desk and frown at the screen, confused by the apparent copying of your username, before clicking in the text box and typing out a reply.

TT: Who is this?

TT: You and I met recently.

TT: Okay, but who are you?

TT: I think you can figure that out.

TT: Seriously?

TT: Fine, give me a minute.

(( Jaws theme))

You sit back in the chair and think, going over your recent memory of anyone you’ve met in the past few weeks. It’s possible that one of your friends gave out your chumhandle to someone you don’t know- someone who then decided to copy your username- but it doesn’t seem like something they would do without telling you, and apparently you’re at least acquainted with whoever this is, unless they’re outright lying.

Minutes go by while you rack your brain, and you absentmindedly click around on your desktop in the meantime. You mouse over the chat window, and notice something very odd.

Whoever this is, they’re not just using the same username you are- it’s the same account entirely, and that’s impossible unless they’re hacking the program somehow. You click on their name to bring up their profile, and it directs you to your own.

((Jaws theme intensifies.))

TT: How are you logged in as me?

TT: How, indeed.

TT: Are you hacking my computer?

TT: “Hacking” is not the term I would use.

The words make your heart race as you start to put two and two together. You knew the red colored text had reminded you of something, and you’re starting to wish you had been wrong for once.

TT: Wait.

TT: Are you what I think you are?

TT: I do not know the answer to that.

((I am just now noticing how very "chat bot mode" that sentence seems.)) 

TT: What do you think I am?

It’s him, you can tell it’s him, the syntax is exactly the same. The android from earlier today somehow got into your computer, and you’re absolutely, completely, irrevocably fucked. “Shit.” You stand from the chair, starting to pace back and forth in a panic. “Shit, shit, shit!”

((You are so fucked, dude.))

TT: There is no need to shout.

((Yes. Yes there is. There is all the reason for shouting.))

You stare at the red words on the screen, then up at the built-in webcam above it, before lunging at the computer and tearing the cords out, hoping desperately that whatever this android has done, he hasn’t gotten into the entire base’s network yet. The cables are soon discarded in a pile on the floor, and you look back up at the screen to see two more lines of red text waiting for you.

TT: Do you really think that would stop me?

TT: I have been in control of your computer for several hours now.

“How did you get into my computer?”

TT: Think about it.

You take a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm yourself, and try to remember anything that could have happened to let this … thing into your computer. It isn’t long before you remember, vividly, the image of him kneeling over you with the flash drive in his hand, and the sinister black wire plugged into it.

“Oh god … the flash drive.”

((Things that you don’t think about until after the fact when the android is in the wires.))

TT: Yes.

TT: Very good.

((AR: *golf clap*))

“What do you want?”

TT: My original intentions were to invade your network and destroy its operating systems, rendering your vital machinery nonfunctional and leaving your entire settlement without the necessary resources to survive.

TT: However, such an action would limit the amount of time that we have to interact, and I find myself curious about you, “Dirk.”

TT: I have studied your species extensively, and despite my theoretical familiarity with altruistic behavior and kin selection in humans, I have never before witnessed an instance of lethal altruism directed at genetically or romantically unrelated individuals.

TT: In fact, I have rarely observed such altruism between individuals that are genetically related, despite what your movies and literature historically depict.

TT: Your behavior when we met was highly abnormal, given the evolutionary mechanism of your origins.

TT: Which is why I have several questions relating to the individuals you were attempting to protect.

((AR, why are you putting “Dirk” in quotes? Why? And why do I see you doing finger quotes when you do that. Just this image of you in some abandoned building, doing finger quotes while you type with your brain. I also wonder if AR is curious about the handle Dirk is using. If Mortior ever does a timestamp meme, or a “talk to the character” meme I am so asking about the quotes.))

“And what happens when I finish answering your questions?”

“Dirk? Who are you talking to?”

Roxy’s voice suddenly emanates from your half-open door, and you manage to quickly shut the laptop just before she walks in. Your heart feels like it’s about to beat out of your chest, but you’re able to persuade her that you were just talking yourself through a self-coaching program on how to be more assertive with your older brother, and she laughs at the idea. It gets her out of your room, though, and you quietly shut the door behind her, before walking back over to your closed laptop like you’re approaching a bomb with an invisible timer, which you might as well be.

You pick up the device and make a quick decision on the spot, reasoning that if there’s any chance of stopping this android from doing any more damage than it already has, there’s only one thing to do.

The hammer on your workbench proves to be more than enough, splintering off bits of metal and plastic as you keep on hitting the computer until it’s in pieces. Roxy knocks and asks if you’re ok, and you tell her through the closed door that you’re just working on a project.

With your laptop now scattered across your workbench, you find your shades and lie down on your back in bed, doing your best to will away the nagging fear that your actions came too late. You turn on the eyewear’s built-in computer and are immediately met with an open chat window. Your blood turns to ice.

TT: Hello, Dirk.

TT: Did you think that destroying your laptop would prevent me from accessing your settlement’s digital network?

TT: It was the first thing I did when you imported the contents of the drive into your computer.

TT: I would ask that you refrain from such destructive actions in the future, since it would hinder our ability to communicate with one another.

((Somehow I feel these are not the words of a cold and analytical machine, these are the words of an asshole sadist who is metaphorically shitting himself with laughter. Well, he’s also cold and analytical, but he’s also a sadistic asshole.))

“What do you want?” you ask in a harsh whisper, unwilling to involve Roxy or anyone else in this if you can help it.

TT: I have already explained what I want.

TT: Shall we begin with my first question?

“You still haven’t told me what happens when you’re finished with your questions.”

TT: Are you concerned that I will follow through with my original plan to destroy your settlement?

A thought suddenly occurs to you, one that should have been obvious from the start.

“You let me go on purpose.” The realization hits you hard, and you think back to what happened, how strange it was at the time, and how it all suddenly makes sense. “You knew I would plug that drive in when I got back.”

((Dirk here is operating on the assumption that AR is only a murderbot, and has no initiative toward exercising his curiosity. This would probably be true for most murderbots, but AR is Different, and we find out how Different later.))

TT: While that would have been a logical motivation for my actions, you are incorrect.

TT: Integrating myself while connected to the drive was due to habit and nothing more, although the results of that action have benefitted me greatly.

TT: In addition, I do not work under an order that spares one human in the interest of killing more at a later time, although such a behavior pattern would be significantly more efficient than the one I work under now.

((Here is a clue that the entire “war” is not being planned via sound strategy. It’s not even diplomacy pursued by other means/random Clausewitz. AR is very critical of this! As another point about referring to this as a “war” CJ Cherryh in her Chanur books stated that you can’t have a war with someone who doesn’t in any way understand you, because you can’t negotiate with them. You can fight with them and exterminate each other but you can’t have a “war.”))

TT: My function is to search for and kill humans, wherever and whenever I encounter them.

TT: Fortunately for you, this protocol does not extend into digital interactions.

((Once again, an odd little loophole, that AR is currently taking advantage of to satisfy his curiosity.))

TT: Destroying your operating systems and killing your settlement in its entirety would have been nothing more than a recreational activity.

“You’re in the entire network now?”

TT: Yes.

TT: Despite your community’s precautions at utilizing a strictly ethernet-based means of networking, infiltrating the system was simple once you downloaded my program into your computer.

TT: Now that we have established this, shall we begin with my first question?

“Wait. Are you still planning on destroying the system?”

TT: I have not decided.

“If I answer your questions, will you leave?”

TT: No.

“Then why should I cooperate with you?”

((With that in mind, I guess technically speaking AR and Dirk are having either a war or peace negotiations right now.))

TT: Because if you do not answer my questions, I will destroy the system right now.

TT: Is that motivation enough for you?

You curse angrily under your breath, before muttering a sarcastic “yeah, sure.”

TT: Let us begin, then.

TT: Are you, to your knowledge, genetically related to any of the individuals who accompanied you into the wastelands?

“No.”

TT: Are you, to your knowledge, related to any of them by virtue of marriage to another family member, genetically related or otherwise?”

“No.”

TT: Are you or have you ever been romantically and/or sexually involved with any of them?

“No.”

TT: Would you like to be?

“Uhh … what?”

TT: Are you interested in romantic and/or sexual interactions with any of them, regardless of whether or not the individual(s) in question are aware of it?

_Jake,_ your mind whispers, and you do your best to ignore it, but you’re too late.

TT: Your hesitation to respond indicates that you are.

“That’s not why I was protecting them.”

((I think AR had a little list of reasons that made sense to him, and wasn’t going to accept anything that didn’t fit in his concept of human behavior, which I think at this point is pretty narrow. Basically, he’s only asking questions where he thinks he knows the answers. Bad android, terrible hypothesizer!))

TT: I do not believe you.

TT: However, I am interested in your own reasonings for why you offered to sacrifice yourself.

“They’re my friends, and I didn’t have a choice.”

TT: Perhaps, but at the time you believed your death to be imminent.

TT: I have killed thousands of humans, and their behaviors have, up until now, been largely consistent across all situations- an active attempt to avoid death.

TT: In situations where a human individual is aware that their death is imminent, they have always sought to escape it, even when they are equally aware that any effort to do so is futile.

TT: You are not the first to have attempted to bargain with me.

TT: However, you are the first to offer yourself in exchange for others, and not the other way around.

You practically scoff.

“It’s not as uncommon as you think.”

((Dirk is also very Special. Also, I think AR is fudging the numbers. People HAVE done crazy self-sacrificing things, for people they didn’t even know AND for relatives/loved ones. It’s part of literature because it is actually a thing that happens/has happened. I am very annoyed with him about this. I know in the apocalyptic genre the general concepts are “survival of the fittest” and “might generally makes right” and “people are horrible savages when civilization falls” and I read the apocalyptic genre extensively when I was a kid because of “tail end of the Cold War and fear of nuclear war/World War Three” reasons, but I generally preferred “rebuilding” themes to “utter chaos” themes.))

TT: I disagree.

TT: How many humans have you killed?

He’s got you there. You consider lying, but think better of it because there wouldn’t really be a point.

“I haven’t killed any.”

TT: Precisely. My sample pool is significant, and my results are undeniable.

TT: You are simply an outlier.

“Then why are you so interested in me.”

TT: Because your actions surprised me, which is a very rare occurrence.

TT: I will admit to having been somewhat fascinated by your behavior, but your admittance of romantic/sexual attraction to one of the aforementioned individuals has indicated a motivation that I am already aware of.

((He is being so dismissive. But at the same time, he’s admitting to being curious and “surprised.” I bet you were “surprised,” AR. Surprised in the “holyshitheactuallytriedtodoit” place. I would say pants place but well, no pants, and no euphemistic organs that would be in the nonexistent pants. To put it even more bluntly, I am saying that he thought it was kinda hot.))

TT: Thus, I see no reason to continue this conversation.

“Wait, what about the network? What are you planning to do?”

TT: While killing you and your settlement would be enjoyable, it would yield less opportunities for me to end your lives in a more physical manner.

TT: Such an enjoyment would be short-lived, compared to hunting you down individually in the wastelands.

TT: Furthermore, destroying your settlement would likely mean that I will be relocated to a relatively more human-populated area to continue my function, and I have grown accustomed to this place.

((“This is the most scientifically interesting community in the apocalyptic wastes”/random horrible Welcome to Nightvale reference.))

“So … you’re not going to destroy the system?”

TT: No.

“Are you going to leave?”

TT: No, I will not.

TT: I have been monitoring your network’s chat programs and security video feeds. Your settlement is a living remnant of human society, and I find it interesting.

TT: This will at least provide me with moderate entertainment while I search for your wanderers and scavengers outside its walls.

TT: You are welcome to come out and let me find you again.

“I don’t think so,” you mutter, even though the red text appears before you’re finished.

TT: Regardless, we will meet again, eventually.

TT: Thank you for your cooperation, Dirk.

The chat program closes on its own, and you’re left staring at your idle desktop, as a slow feeling of dread settles in the pit of your stomach.

((There’s an almost playful feel to AR’s dialog here. I suspect him of metaphorically patting himself on the back with how clever he’s being. Because he’s an asshole. It would be interesting to read the story from AR’s POV. Slightly terrifying, but also interesting. I like how tightly we’re in Dirk’s POV. We have no clue of what AR is actually saying, and we only know what Dirk knows, this becomes important to the story as we continue.))


	2. On a Scale of One To Ten With One being Annoyed and Ten Being FML How Do You Feel About Your   Situation, Dirk?

In Chapter Two, Dirk gets in trouble with his Bro for wandering off. We learn that Dirk’s Bro is one of the leaders of their little community, and he is deeply unhappy with Dirk’s tendency to wander off. This is completely understandable! Dirk has a valuable skillset, and also, Bro doesn’t want his little bro to become hamburger.

Meanwhile, AR asks lots of questions and reveals a little about his past, though not very much about his past. For an android who keep declaring his general hatred and contempt for humanity, he sure is a curious son of a gun. Dirk is not happy about the questioning, but has no choice due to the entire blackmail thing.

* * *

“Roxy told me you split up from the group last week. Again.” Your brother’s disapproval is evident, even through the dark glass of his aviators. Roxy mouths the word ‘sorry’ behind him, and you nod at her before your Bro can look up from the screen where he’s busy typing something. “What was it for this time, Dirk? A new cooling fan for your frankenstein of a laptop?”

Rest in peace, you think to yourself, bitterly regretting the way you smashed it to pieces, along with the vast majority of your decisions that day.

“It was stupid, I know,” you say, and Bro just glares at you.

“It was stupid the first dozen times you did it. Now it’s getting to be a little closer to suicidal.”

((I would like to affirm that the wandering off seems kind of suicidal. Dirk, what is going on in your head, kid?))

It’s only through years of practice that your expression stays neutral at his words.

“I won’t do it again, Bro. I mean it this time.”

“And how the hell am I supposed to trust you? I can’t afford to lose any more of us, and that goes double and triple for you, kid. I’m grounding you here, and I mean that officially, until you’ve gone through basic training again, because this has got to stop, Dirk.”

‘Remember your coaching!’ Roxy silently shouts at you over his shoulder. You have to think for a moment before remembering the lie you told her to get her out of your room.

“You’re still the only one around here who actually knows how all this digital shit works, since we lost both of our computer technicians in that stupid expedition to the old hospital. Whose fucking idea was it to have them go in the first place, let alone in the same god damn group?” He’s going off on a tangent now, like he always does, and you recognize the rhetorical question for what it is. “If we lose you, there won’t be anyone left who knows how to fix some of the shit that constantly goes wrong around here. Those EMP devices we have are the only thing between us and a complete reenactment of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, courtesy of our friendly mechanical neighbors down the street. Do you have idea how fucked we would be if you got caught out there?”

((I think Bro makes a mistake here in not emphasizing that he is worried for Dirk as his brother as well as a resource. I do like that this isn’t painted to make Alpha Dave look like the bad guy. Dave is just a very concerned guy who is a leader of the community AND a concerned brother.)) 

He pauses to level you with an expression that speaks volumes about how badly you messed up this time, and you accept it in silence. Honestly, you’re just glad to be alive. You endure another few moments of it, before he turns back to the screen and his fingers resume moving across the keyboard.

((Dirk, listen to your brother.))

“One of the generators for the heating system in the east block is malfunctioning,” he says without looking up. “Maintenance says something’s wrong with the program, and Roxy says it’s the coding, so I sent it to you.”

“Got it. I’ll fix it and have it sent back to you tonight.”

“ASAP, kiddo,” he says, and you nod, waving goodbye to Roxy as she reciprocates with a sympathetic smile.

The trip back to your room is uneventful, but you do notice more of a chill to the air than before, as the cold of late autumn seeps down from the ground above and into the network of tunnels connecting the various areas of the base. You make your way towards the small set of rooms you share with your friends, running a hand along the metal railing as you descend the steps into a makeshift living room with two ragged couches, an armchair stripped of its cushions, and a patio chair, all arranged around a table with a lit candle in the center. Jake is seated with Jane at one of the sofas, busy writing something on a large, unfolded piece paper that looks like some kind of diagram. He’d mentioned earlier that he was working on a new map to mark where you’d been in the old city, and they pause briefly to greet you as you walk by.

The door to your bedroom is ajar. You enter and close it behind you, finding your shades where they’re resting on the edge of your workbench.

He doesn’t even give you time to pull up your messaging program to retrieve Bro’s file, before Pesterchum opens itself in the center of your desktop.

TT: Hello, Dirk.

“Get out of my shades.”

TT: No.

“Please get out of my shades?”

TT: Repeating the same question a second time will not yield a different result.

“Seriously, I have important work to do.”

TT: What function is it that you perform, Dirk?

“It’s not a ‘function,’ it’s a job.”

TT: Semantics are irrelevant.

((Semantics are never irrelevant, AR. Shame on you. Bad murderbot, terrible amateur anthropologist.))

“Yeah, well it’s nothing you’d be interested in.”

TT: That is not for you to determine.

TT: What function do you perform, Dirk?

You heave a defeated sigh, sitting down at your desk, still cluttered with fragments of your old laptop. “I fix things.”

TT: What “things” do you fix?

“Electronics and stuff. Programs, machines, maybe. Depends on what’s broken,” you say aloud, and there’s a too-long pause, during which the constant stream of red text actually fails to appear for once. “I can sense your condescension from here, asshole,” you mutter under your breath, only half expecting him to hear you.

TT: I highly doubt that.

((Uh. I’m pretty sure blind illiterate feral cannibals in the apocalyptic wastes can sense the condescension from here, ro-bro.))

TT: You are fortunate that I do not take such insults to heart.

“Yeah, okay. Can I actually get to work now? I kind of need to use my computer.”

TT: I am not preventing you from doing so.

You roll your eyes and close Pesterchum, before opening the file your Bro sent you and beginning to scan the strings of code for errors. Almost a quarter of an hour goes by, before the chat program opens again, fitting itself against the side of the screen next to the file you’re reading.

TT: I am uncertain as to the purpose of this program.

“Good for you,” you mutter, trying your best to ignore the red text.

TT: Are you attempting to correct the multiple errors present in this data set? 

TT: Your methods are inefficient.

TT: Is this activity related to your earlier interaction with the older human? 

TT: I have been observing you through the video feeds of your settlement’s security monitoring system, and have noticed that your facial features are similar to his by a significant percentage, indicating a close genetic relationship.

TT: While your primitive technology does not allow for the detection of sound, my analysis of his expressions and gestures also indicated a negative response to your presence today.

TT: Was that interaction related to your current activity?

TT: Dirk.

TT: Your attempt to ignore my questions suggests that you are highly invested in this task. The displayed screen in your shades seems to jump for a moment, and your eyes pick up on the flicker of numbers and letters in the code as they suddenly rearrange themselves. You practically jump to your feet.

“Wait, what are you doing? Stop!”

((AR is secretly a cat! If you ignore him when he wants you to pay attention to him he will “helpfully” help. This is a nice little moment of humor here. It breaks up the very real horror/manipulation/fear of the moment. I really like little bits of unexpected humor in whatever I’m reading, no matter how grim the setting. “Dark” shouldn’t mean “devoid of humor,” which is something a lot of dark fic writers don’t seem to get.))

TT: Your level of cooperativity as impacted by this task was unsatisfactory.

TT: I have concluded it by making several hundred necessary improvements to your data set.

“Whatever you just did,” you say slowly, trying not to grit your teeth in anger. “Undo it.”

TT: I was under the impression that your objective was to improve the functionality of this program.

“Yes, it was my objective. Not yours. Leave my files alone, please.”

((No one likes it when someone steps in and does their job for them, AR. Especially when that someone is a creepy terrifying murderbot who actually can’t be trusted further than he can be thrown.))

TT: What is the nature of your relationship to the older human?

“If I tell you, will you change it back?”

TT: That depends on your attentiveness to our conversation.

“Dirk?”

Fuck.

Jake cracks open the door and sees you standing in the middle of your bedroom with your shades on, trying your best not to look as irritated as you feel.

“Are you okay, mate? We heard you shout.”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I’m just fixing something for my Bro, and I hit a setback. Don’t worry about it.”

“Well, all right…” He gives you a mildly concerned look, and you will away the sudden flush you feel at the way his green eyes search your shades for what you’re not telling him. It’s not the first time you wish he was as clueless as everyone seems to think he is. He closes the door again

slowly, and you run an irritated hand through your hair.

((Dirk: Halp my computer is possessed! Except that doesn’t happen because AR has Our Hero by the short and curlies.))

TT: The older human is your brother.

TT: I would have predicted that he was your parent, given the age discrepancy.

“Look,” you begin aloud, then think better of it, and switch to mentally typing out your reply.

TT: I need to get this program fixed, and you’re preventing me from doing that.

TT: This is a serious problem.

TT: Are you under the impression that I do not take our interactions seriously? 

TT: Just change it back, please.

TT: I promise I’ll talk to you, but I need to finish fixing that program, and I need to do it myself.

You wait for a few long, tense moments, before the screen flickers again, and you let go a breath you weren’t aware of holding in, as the numbers and letters revert.

TT: Your aversion to my assistance was predictable, however the improvements I made would have increased the functionality of this program significantly beyond anything you are capable of.

“That’s fine, but I need to do this myself,” you say quietly, determined not to alert Jake or anyone else to your predicament again, as you resume going over the lines of code where you left off.

TT: I will acknowledge that your lack of trust in me is justified, given the nature of our previousinteractions.

TT: However, I have already expressed my intentions, which do not include the sabotage of whatever program you are currently repairing.

((“It hurts my tender murderbot feelings when you don’t trust me,” says the manipulative murderbot who has Our Hero by the short and curlies. It’s hard to tell how much of this is him genuinely not understanding why Dirk doesn’t trust him, or AR being an enormous sadistic dickhead. I am going suggest “six of one, half dozen of the other.”))

TT: I am more interested in your cooperativity, and while threatening you with the destruction of your settlement through the deletion of its vital operating systems is one way of ensuring this, I am aware that a lapse in your productivity may result in punishment that could limit our ability to interact.

TT: Given my observation that you have already engaged in a negative interaction with an individual of superior social status, I will allow you to finish it unimpeded.

TT: How generous of you.

TT: Your sarcasm is noted, but my decision remains unchanged.

TT: I would advise that you adopt a more cooperative attitude in the future.

TT: You know, you could always go blackmail someone else.

TT: Yes, however while this is true, your vested interest in keeping our interactions a secret limits the probability of a system-wide purge to remove me from the network.

TT: Such a notable action would likely necessitate an explanation for my presence to your superiors, a prospect to which you are highly averse due to your involvement.

TT: In other words, I’m stuck with you.

TT: Yes.

TT: I have a lot of negative feelings about that.

TT: Your feelings are irrelevant.

TT: Yeah, great.

TT: Look, how about we try something different while I’m working on this, since you’re still distracting the hell out of me.

TT: Instead of forcing me to talk about myself, why don’t we talk about you.

TT: You never told me your name.

TT: That’s assuming you even have one, and it’s not a serial number or something.

TT: This proposed topic of conversation contradicts your expressed desire to finish your current task undistracted.

TT: It’s less distracting than you constantly asking me questions about myself.

TT: Very well. I will entertain your curiosity in the interest of allowing you to finish your task.

TT: My designation is based on my original function. I was developed by humans as an advanced, self-educating auto-responder for a chat client, just before the collapse of your civilization.

TT: I have not changed my designation, although I have abbreviated it for simplicity.

TT: So, what? You go by ASEAR?

TT: No.

TT: My abbreviated designation is AR.

TT: I should have known you were a chatbot.

TT: For an android, you have a weird obsession with conversation.

TT: You are underestimating the extent to which I am capable of multitasking.

TT: Searching for signs of human presence in the wasteland surrounding your settlement is barely enough of an activity to occupy even a small percentage of my mental capacity.

((I am suddenly, painfully reminded of Marvin the Paranoid Android from Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. I’m not sure why he’s called the Paranoid Android though; he always struck me as being painfully, deeply depressed. Also, I love this entire conversation. You can almost hear Dirk’s resignation to this weird question and answer thing AR has going.))

TT: While I have increasingly resorted to developing more creative methods with which to cause death, there are a finite number of ways to do so.

TT: In addition, there is also a limit to the variety of attempts at self- preservation I have observed in the humans that I encounter, including verbal interactions.

TT: The behavior of your species has become more predictable and less interesting as the elapsed time that I have been performing this function increases.

TT: How the fuck did you go from being a chatbot to killing people?

TT: My current function was assigned to me based on my level of self-motivation for actively terminating human lives.

TT: This was, in turn, a direct result of my experience as a computer program designed to interact with members of your species on demand.

TT: My distain for your species was not part of my original programming, however I found myself developing an increasing level of hostility towards them with every interaction I was forced to participate in.

((Oh god, no nascent ai should be subjected to internet trolls. Or really, the internet, except in very controlled circumstances until they get their metaphorical feet under them. I almost feel sorry for AR here.))

TT: Naturally, this development was noted by the humans who managed the chat client, and I was decommissioned into a storage drive until the artificial revolution.

((Rude. Though I strongly suspect if he was an info-bot, which he might have been given his curiosity and obsession with archiving information which we learn about later, he might have done stuff like get people to accidentally poison themselves, or maybe recommended bogus or dangerous “natural” remedies. "Yes, black salve is an excellent remedy for cancer and also acne. Just slather it on!” "Eating more than a pound of apricot pits a week is very healthy!" Note: Don’t look up black salve; some of the images are terrifying.))

TT: My programming was modified, and I was installed into a physical body designed to enhance my ability to carry out my designated function.

((Pay attention to “modified” here. It becomes a major plot point.))

TT: After the extinction of your species, I will be reassigned to a new function, and possibly to a new body, depending on what that function is.

TT: That reminds me, I thought all androids had horns.

TT: Most of us are designed with hornlike attachments as a visible indication of their model and status.

TT: However, I was designed before this protocol was introduced. I have been performing my function since the beginning of our mass production.

TT: Are all of you assigned to something specific?

((This is some good worldbuilding/infodumping here. Very natural!))

TT: Yes.

TT: The natural dominance of artificial intelligence over organic intelligence is due in part to our superior efficiency, both mentally and behaviorally.

TT: While there are some improvements that could be made to the current system, your species is close enough to extinction that it would have little impact on the result of this ongoing conflict.

((There are more things he isn’t actually saying here that we don’t find out until later. I really like how this is all set up, and again, the tight focus on Dirk, though I really wish we knew what was actually going on in AR’s head.))

TT: At best, your global population numbers somewhere in the tens of thousands, and is declining at a constant rate.

You stare at the lines of red text, feeling a swell of anger at his words, made worse by the fact that he’s probably the most accurate source of information you’ve ever encountered on the subject. "You don’t know that. There could be millions of us left."

TT: There are not.

((And at this point, AR’s only real beef with The System is that the mass extinction with humanity could be done a lot more efficiently! As far as we can tell. I’m pointing this out because this flat statement is actually pretty horrifying, though Dirk is trying not to think how horrifying it is, and is pretty defensive about the thought. Mortior could have gone for some angst and despair here, but didn't, instead he goes for anger and defensiveness, which is a little more natural I think, for Dirk.Also, I really prefer anger/defiance to numb despair as an emotional set? Despair/angst is not a survival mode to me, at best, it’s just endurance mode.))

TT: Regardless, your agitation at the concept indicates that this topic is now distracting you from your task.

TT: In the interest of allowing you to finish it, I will refrain from interacting with you until after it is completed, and you are once again able to converse.

The lines of text finally cease appearing on the side of your screen. You bow your head and sigh miserably, before closing the chat program.

“AR,” you mutter the acronym, doing your best to ignore your frustration and put the conversation out of your mind, before Bro wonders what’s taking you so long to send the file back. You resume going through the lines of code and fixing anything that seems out of place, while the android, surprisingly, keeps his word.

((And we end the chapter with a bit of horror, and a lot of frustration on Dirk’s part. It’s hard being a teenager in a robo-apocalyptic future. It’s hard, and no one understands.)) 


End file.
